Black and Green
by CablesAndCrack
Summary: Confrontation between Batman and Poison Ivy with Batgirl caught in the middle. Contains sex and violence.
1. Issue 1

Green on steel. Thin lime boots, pacing slowly forwards. Slender body with hips swaying from side to side with each step. A slight echo as her heels dig into the grating beneath her boot. It's dark. Usually that's dAngerous in Gotham but she isn't scared. She has her own silent protector. The machine whirs. It is almost ready.

* * *

The Iceberg Lounge. Gotham's very own hive of scum and villainy. Anyone who knows anything knows to get out of his way. Inside: patrons gossip, men of 'taste' whose tongues are lined with secrets and pockets stuffed with cash. Waitresses wait, skimpily dressed nobodies that drop everything so the crowds can watch them bend over. The tight black corsets. The little domino masks. The plume of feathers bursting from their rears. Men make it their business there to grab those tails and pull the petite blondes and brunettes into their laps. The women make it their business to be pulled. They'll give those men the night of their lives and they'll never know who that girl was. But that girl will know who they were. And so will their boss. Black on marble. Dark heavy boots, pacing slowly forwards.

The Penguin prefers the shadows. Let Wayne and the others have the light. He'll take everything else. Oswald Cobblepot sat in his counting house making towers of coins and notes and cheques and diamonds and jewels and severed fingertips s. "It's different this time Penguin," one of his less respectable employees tells him. Cobblepot makes a mental note to fire him once this conversation is over. Nobody calls him Penguin. "He's different." They know who He is. No need to explain. "He's angry."

The Lounge starts to empty. Drinks left half-finished, women left with half their clothes still on, pockets not yet emptied. He's here. One of the waitresses makes the mistake of trying to delay him. A little slip here, a flash there, the act finished with a cheeky wink. It's enough to entice any man. This isn't any man. She flees with the others. Cape drags across the marble floor, enshrouding everything it touches with darkness.

"First he hit Sionis. Then Thorne. The Ice Pick, The Canary, Devil's Drive. Nowhere's safe boss." Cobblepot has grown tired of this man's voice. He will have him removed. Permanently. "I imagine he's coming here next then," the Penguin finally speaks, pouring himself a drink. The doors burst open. "Right on cue," he smiles, that thin toothy devious smile of his. Practically trademarked. The other man panics. He runs. The intruder sticks an arm out and stops him in his tracks. His jaw shatters, he hits the floor with a thud. He doesn't get up. "Where is she?" Batman growls.

Penguin's voice doesn't falter and break like it did the first time he met the dark knight. He takes a sip of his drink, a thick Irish whisky with twin cubes of ice floating in it, and he answers calmly. "Don't know." He sees Batman's fists clench and his heart speeds up. He doesn't let it show. "Not here I can assure you. I wanted nothing to do with her. She's gone too far this time. I know that. We all know that. No I'm afraid none of your usual suspects are hiding her," The thin white slits that Cobblepot presumes are his eyes narrow. "If you're lying..." He doesn't finish the sentence. He doesn't have to. Oswald blinks and the building is empty. No more customers. No more staff. But the demon is gone.

* * *

She's not alone. She lifts her arm, extending her hand. Her skin is flawless, perfectly soft. Her hair flows down her her back in a river of red. Red lips. Poison. Her hand is clasped by a yellow glove. More red hair. Another slender body. Poison Ivy licks her lips. "Pucker up" she hisses. The other figure does not move. Ivy takes both of the yellow hands in her own and slips off the gloves revealing pale flesh. She takes those new hands to her mouth and presses her lips to each of them in turn, gently. She thinks she feels them trembling. Ivy then cups the cheeks of her companion and pulls her into a kiss. Lips meets and sparks fly. The figure submits. Ivy is the master. "Are you ready to begin your work?" Ivy whispers and she almost sounds like she doesn't already know the answer. "I am." Batgirl submits.

* * *

The cowl is gone. Bruce Wayne sits in his cave, elbows propped up on the console of the computer, both feet planted on the ground. He is brooding. It has been a long time since Alfred has seen him this bad. Alfred Pennyworth. The servant. Loyal to the last. He wants to offer words that will make everything right again. He wants to put his arm around the little boy who lost his parents. He wants to console his son. But that boy is gone. Only Batman remains. Godforsaken and empty: Batman. "Master Bruce," he speaks up but receives no response. Words start to fail him so he falls back on old favourites. "Your dinner is getting cold." Silence. Then Bruce Wayne speaks. "It's been 24 hours since Ivy took her. Put out the call." Alfred does as he is told. Loyal to the last.

A signal. To all allies of the Bat in Gotham. Help. Please help. He needs help. His parents are dead. He is alone. He prowls the streets at night. He is alone. He hides behind a mask. He is alone. He dresses as a bat to strike fear into the hearts of criminals and avenge the deaths of his parents. He is alone. He needs help. He is never alone, loyal to the last.

* * *

Today her name is Emma. That's one of her favourites. Not her real name but it will do for tonight. Because Emma is a naughty girl. Emma deserves to be punished. And Emma will be paid to be punished. When he spanks her, he is unsure. She can sense it. The palm of his hand smacks into the soft flesh of her nude butt. It stings. She screams for him. His confidence grows. She can feel it.

Her ass stings. It is seared red by the beating. He is not holding back anymore. She feels the cold metal around her wrists holding her to his bed. She doesn't know his name. He said his name was Tommy. He was lying. This is Gotham. He is Gotham.

His belt crashes into her stomach. Her body writhes in pain but it can't break free. It will never be free. The city hates. The city loves her. The city hurts her. He laughs. He has drawn blood. He has seen her bleed. Now he will not stop. She can see it in his eyes. The leather of his belt whips into her again and again, finding new targets with every hip. The metal buckle is the worst. She can live with the bruises, its the cuts that sting the most.

She feels his hands grip her thighs, softer than she imagined, spreading them wide apart. He peppers her with kisses, as if seasoning a meal. She realises now, that nowhere is safe. His tongue finds her vagina and scrapes slowly along it. She moans softly. This punishment is not so bad. Them he takes the belt again and she finds herself shaking. He likes that. And when he brings the belt down this time her screams are louder than ever before.

At this moment, Emma reflects on reality. There are only two types of people in Gotham. The whipped pussies like herself. And the whips themselves. And the man who holds the whips? Who forces it to come down on everyone else? Gotham City herself. She has lost focus, not been paying attention. She didn't see him coming. But she felt it. His hands grasping her scrawny neck and squeezing. Perhaps this is it. Perhaps this is finally the one who kills her. Or perhaps he'll stop like the others did, and leave her broken. Alone. He won't stop. She can see it in his eyes. Glass smashes.

"Daniel Powers." Emma looks up. The grip on her neck is gone. The devil has come for them. A demon of darkest black and blazing red. She looks angry. "Murderer." It speaks. Powers recoils in fear. He protests. Tries to cry his innocence, he's never killed anyone. Not yet. "1,131. Or did you forget about the forests." He pauses. He doesn't understand. "You mean... Trees? This is about trees?" "This is about survival" the dark angel replies, "ours not yours." Emma understands. There are 2 types of people in Gotham. This is not one of them. Powers swallows as the figure advances on him. There is no escape from Batgirl.

Knuckles hit his face. At least one tooth flies from his mouth. Daniel Powers slumps to the floor. It only took one punch. Batgirl turns to the girl. "Who are you?" She asks. "I'm no one," she whispers. Pause. "Good." The redhead, usually so full of charm and energy, advances on her new prey."he dis this to you?" "Yes." "You let him?" "Yes." She stops at the end of the bed and Emma feels Batgirl grasp her ankles tightly. "Let me."

Emma knows what men like. She has no idea what devils like. She discovers they are far less cruel. Her body writhes, but not from pain. From the touch of an angel. Batgirl's glove is on the floor. Her fingers, two at least, are inside the girl. Pumping back and forth, making her squirm and moan, fingers spreading further and further apart inside her. Emma closes her eyes and moans. Batgirl rewards her with her mouth.

Lips press to the sensitive pussy and Emma gasps as Batgirl's tongue darts inside. She feels it circling her walls, wet lips working her vagina forcefully. Waves of pleasure wash over the helpless woman, her hips starting to buck in the arms of her saviour. "Mon dio" she mutters u der her breath over and over, slipping into her mother tongue. She cries out as orgasm hits her.

She lies there, still naked, still bound. Batgirl looks at her. "Say my name," she says slowly. Her fingers are now softly tracing the red lines of her skin, feeling every cut and bruise as if it were her own. "Batgirl," Emma breathes out. "No," Batgirl says and her hand retracts. "I'm no one and that gives us strength. We are all no one. And we will all serve the mistress." Emma doesn't respond. She can't. She has no words. She doesn't need to. Batgirl is gone. 'Tommy' is gone. She is alone.

* * *

It's not how fast they run that tips him off. Its that neither of the thugs can say anything as they do. They are scared silent. They can't even scream. Tim Drake knows he is in the right place. He drops down into the alley they came from. He lands next to his mentor. "They're getting worried about you. None of the others could find you," Red Robin watches as a shadow draws up from the darkness and steps out. "You found me," Batman says. It is merely a statement. "I'm smarter than the others." Another statement. "They don't need to worry." A lie. "Because you're clearly the model of mental health." A joke. Tim reaches out, his hand lands on Bruce's shoulder: "We'll find her."

* * *

Dick Grayson knew he never should have left her in Gotham. Barbara Gordon was the only person who still mattered. Bruce was a father. A brother. But he wasn't a person. He could talk to Barbara. He knew her and she knew him. He'd felt that connection even before they'd been partners fighting crime. Back when he was the new kid on the block and she was the Commissioner's daughter. She'd been through so much but the one flaw in Barbara Gordon was that she was incapable of asking for help. Whenever he'd tried to be there for her, she'd pushed him away. His mistake was letting her. And now she was gone. And he was alone.

The city was quiet. Batman had been busy. Nightwing could see no one moving in the streets below. But he could see someone. On the roof. In front of him. A dark perfect silhouette. Curves in all the right places, clad in tight leather. A nine-tailed whip hanging from her tiny waist. Catwoman steps towards him. He tenses up when she speaks, a voice with a rough sexy edge to it that sends a shot of lust through any man that hears it. "little birdie all alone?" She licks her hips and she feels her hand press to his chest. Sharp clawed nails almost digging into him. He almost wishes they were. "Need a hand?" And he was no longer alone.

* * *

Daniel Powers' eyes flicker open and his first thought is thank god its not the police station. He is tied up. And he is not alone. Two women stand over them, both redheads. Both beautiful. The Batgirl. Poison Ivy. It is the taller one, clad in tight green and spiced up with foliage, who speaks. "You are all here to pay for your sins. You have no place in the new dawn that is upon Gotham. You have been judged. When my machine is ready, it will spread my spores throughout Gotham turning all into servants like my bodyguard here." At the gesture towards her, Batgirl's mouth twists slightly. A proud smirk.

"It will be a new age for Gotham. Not so much a golden age as a green age. But like I said, you have no place in it. You will all be at the heart of the explosion and reduced to part of the soil you have defiled. And Gotham shall be reborn..."


	2. Issue 2

Droplets of cold water set into her skin. They slither down her naked body and fall to the floor. Wet blonde hair draping down her back. Short bursts of giggles escape from her lips as images flash through her mind. Her broken and unbalanced mind. Her name is Harleen Quinzel. She is known as Harley Quinn. And she is quite mad.

Her body is thin. Wet. Her arms are all over the place, in a manic frenzy as she soothes soap suds into her soft skin. She cups her large breasts together, grinning with delight as she catches the falling water in the valley between them. Her hips sway rhythmically, while one leg bounces up and down almost in time to the falling water. Music blares in the background. "I've got a blank space baby," Harley's voice harmonises with Taylor Swift painfully as she bends her neck to look down behind her. She grins, her wet palm smacking loudly against her right buttock. "And I'll write your name!"

The water stops. The music stops. For a moment Harley is still. Her mind wanders. She thinks of the day ahead of her, prancing down the busy streets. Everyone moving out of her way. Their heads turning, following her. Blue denim short shorts clinging tightly to her round ass, a short red vest barely hanging onto her chest, blowing in the wind, covering very little of her torso. All eyes on her. Just the way she liked it. Just the way Mr J liked it. They all liked to watch her, but they all knew the golden rule: you can look but you can't touch. She was Joker's girl. Nobody else touchds. Well almost nobody. Then her mind snaps back to now. She steps out of the shower.

Clad only in a towel and still humming a tune under her breath, something inappropriate, Harley emerged from the bathroom. Her eyes should have been drawn to the man, tied up and gagged in the corner, and painted up as a clown. She had plans for that poor unfortunate soul caught in her web. She was going to call him Jerry.

Her fingertips would drag down his bare hairy chest. Her legs would straddle his waist. She'd press her lips to his in an irresistible kiss while her hands would wander. She'd wrap her slender fingers around his cock. Rock hard of course. Slowly pumping up and down, her lips would move down his body until they met that rod. She'd take his penis into her mouth, press her blood red lips around it. Her eyes would look up, watching him closely as she sucked. If he wasn't good, she'd kill him. But if he tasted good, he could fuck her ass. Then she'd probably kill him.

But Harley's eyes weren't drawn to Jerry, or whatever his name really was. Instead she stares at the new arrival, draped over her bed. The delicious redhead in her underwear pouting her lips. A wink. "Ivy!" Harley squeals and leaps onto the bed to her friend, embracing her. "Hey Harl," Poison Ivy plays it cool. Or she tries to.

Friendship comes easy to some. This is more than that. Two misfits. Two women in a man's game. This means more to Harley than Taylor Swift and kidnapped men dressed as clowns. And it has been so long. They both lose control at almost the same time. If her life depended on it, Harley would have said Ivy made the first move. It didn't matter. In moments they were wrapped in each other's arms, falling into a kiss. Jerry watched, drooling with wide eyes. She was Joker's girl. Nobody else touches. Well almost nobody.

Ivy was on top, and Harley offered no resistance, only a laugh, as she pulled away the clown girl's towel leaving her stark naked. Harley surged upwards, pushing Ivy onto her back now. The redhead instinctively grasped the blonde's boobs, squeezing tightly. Harley grunted then shimmied down Ivy's body, and it was Ivy's turn to gasp now as Harley's tongue pressed to the villainess' thin black panties.

Ivy grasped her companion's blonde hair in her fist and yanked back harshly. Harley's head shot back and Ivy lunged forward, planting kisses up and along her exposed neck. Harley bit her lip as she felt the redhead nibbling on her soft unbroken skin. That was going to leave a mark. Harley's hands roamed the expanse of bare back before her, managing to unbuckle her friend's bra as she did so.

Ivy left Harley slumped on her bed sweating and trying to catch her breath. A grin. Finger rising to deadly blood red lips. Eyes fluttering shut, as tongue emerges to curl around finger. Harley's heart raced faster as she watched. Ivy was in control. She takes her wet finger and presses it to her partner's mouth. Obediantly, the jester's lips part and the finger dips inside. Proud smile. "Good girl," Ivy whispers, "now do you want to hear my plan?"

* * *

Nightwing sighs. This was another mistake. She was another mistake. Bruce had warned him about Selina, about Catwoman. Selina Kyle. She liked to play games. And she had known he was vulnerable. Or she hadn't he supposed that didn't matter now. He should have been out there looking for Barbara, instead he was in a cheap hotel room, sleeping with another woman. A catwoman. Then she rolls over. Her pert bottom exposed, looking so tight, so smooth. All his doubts fade away.

Selina purrs. His hands are on her rear, rubbing. He grips her hips. She breathes in. He pulls her up onto all fours. She breathes out. Kitty purrs. She can feel him pressed against her ass, and she knows he is going to take it. He doesn't ask. So much like Batman. Yet so different. His cock crashes into her ass without warning.

Catwoman wails as Nightwing fucks her. He knows it hurts her. She loves it but it hurts her. He knows she deserves the the pain. In. Out. In. Out. He gives her everything he has. But he can't think of her no matter how hard he tries. He is thinking of Batgirl. Lost. Alone. He is wishing she was here. He is wishing he was fucking her.

In that moment everything changes. When she was Catwoman, he could do anything. Now she is Batgirl, he wants to do everything. And he does. She watches as he picks up her whip, a new fire in his eyes. When she screams he hears Barbara screaming. When she moans he hears Barbara moaning. And when she calls out "Nightwing!" He hears Barbara call out: "Dick!" And now Selina realises, there is more to him than just Batman jr.

* * *

Tim Drake is the world's greatest detective. Or at the very least he will be. The only problem is that he knows it. Despite this occasional arrogance, he is useful. And Batman knows arrogance very well. They are both silent. Tim has a screen up, projecting from his latest gadget strapped to his wrist. Batman watches. When he speaks it almost makes Tim jump. "Where were you? When we sent out the call?" "Home," Tim says simply.

His mind flashes back. Stephanie. He sees his beautiful blonde girlfriend: Stephanie Brown. They were at home together, nestled in each other's arms. He could see her now, in her underwear, one leg on either side of his waist, and arms wrapped around his bare chest, cheek snuggled to his shoulder. She was out there somewhere right now, dressed in purple, hood up, calling herself the Spoiler, and looking for Barbara just like everyone else

"I'm sorry," Batman said. He didn't explain why. Tim could figure it out. Tim spent less and less time as Red Robin now, choosing to focus on the future, on his life. Bruce knew that. Tim knew that Bruce knew that. Tim had answered the call anyway. He owed Bruce a debt that could never be repaid. Not fully. The debt of family. "I've got something," Tim grins, "a string of kidnappings and several supposed sightings of Batgirl. The kidnappings fit Poison Ivy's MO."

Something about Batman's voice sends a shiver down Tim Drake's spine when he says: "do you know what this means?" Red Robin cocks his head to the side: "it means she's alive." You didn't need to be the world's greatest detective to reach that conclusion. "It means Ivy's using her," Bruce says, and he almost sounds human. This really scares Tim. "And when Ivy uses someone..." He didn't need to finish. Tim understood. Tim always understood.

* * *

Harley Quinn is scowling. Her finger presses into Batgirl's nose. When there is no reaction she sticks her tongue out. "She is the first," Ivy says from behind her. Something about Poison Ivy's voice sends a shiver down Harleen Quinzel's spine when she says: "there will be more." "Why'd ya leave her mask on red?" She pipes up. "Knowledge is power my dear Harley. One day you will learn to think and understand that for yourself." Harley fiddles with strands of her own golden hair, suddenly annoyed she's outnumbered by gingers. "So how long is she under your spell for?" Ivy smirks at the question and Harley suspects she's very pleased with the answer. "It's been nearly 30 hours. After 48 hours, the effects are permanent..."

* * *

Batgirl knows her mission. She is the first. There will be more. She must find the others. Batman. Robin. Red Robin. Nightwing. Spoiler. They will all serve her mistress. They will all serve Poison Ivy. No one is safe.


	3. Issue 3

**Author's Notes:** **So this story is turning out to be darker than I originally intended. It is however approaching its grand finale. Issue 4 will be the conclusion, and trust me: it is a doozy! But for now: enjoy the penultimate part of Black and Green.**

1 cut.

Stephanie Brown. Tall. Blonde. Slim. Beautiful. The Spoiler. The love of Tim Drake's life as she is of his. By day, a friendly chirpy college student with her head in the stars. By night, exactly the same, except she wears a purple costume with a hood. Tonight, she's going to wish she didn't.

2 cuts.

It's dark. It's late. It's Gotham. She should be at home, tucked in bed, asleep. Safe. She can almost picture it if she tries very hard. In her cute little purple pyjamas. Of course they're purple. Tim's arms around, holding her close, never letting go. Her skin pressed to his, her legs tangled and tied to his toned body. Tim's hands caressing her smooth skin as his lips lay kisses down her vulnerable neck. Her whole body trembling with anticipation. Wrapped up in a cocoon of bedding and covers as they make love. But she's not in bed. She's on the streets. She's the Spoiler. And she's in over her head.

3 cuts.

Any other night she'd be striking terror into criminals hearts. Any other night she'd have Tim at her side, the Red Robin. Any other night, this would be fun, and she'd be teasing him, and in the quiet moments, in the deep and lovely dark, he'd hold her close, rain trickling down their cheeks, breathing as sharp as daggers, and lips pressed together, breathing each other in. His Stephanie. Her Timothy. This is not any other night.

4 cuts

Water splashes over her boot as she runs through the damp streets. Fear is her fuel. She has never felt it this strong. It's the laughter that really gets to her. They want to hurt her. They want to be cruel. They want so much more than that. Their names are Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy. She is their prey. And they are her nightmare. With Tim, she'd stand a chance. With Tim, she'd be safe by morning. She is not with Tim. She runs. They walk. She has no hope.

5 cuts.

They draw blood. The sharp edge of the knife pressed against her cheek. Spoiler is helpless. She can feel the end drawing near. Green vines have gripped her wrists and ankles. She is held in place in a dark alleyway. Everything in Gotham seems to end in a dark alleyway. Her fear is so strong they can smell it. Her fear is delicious. Harley giggles. Ivy smirks. Steph doesn't know which is worse.

6 cuts.

They trapped her. They chased her. They cornered her. They baited her. They defeated her. They spoiler her. And Stephanie does not know why but she knows what comes next. They beat her. Harley strikes first, the razor blade dancing between her finger. It swipes her other cheek. Then a fist crashes into her stomach and she cries out. Before long she is coughing up blood. The colour of Ivy's lips. Harley sniggers: "that costume looks awful tight..."

7 cuts.

They strip her. But not like humans. Like animals. With the blade. Slashing and tearing. Her costume falls away from her in shreds. Steph is held there on display in her underwear, for the whole world to see. She'd take the world over these two anyday. "Look at that," Harley grins moronically for ear to ear, "she has bat-panties!" Stephanie can feel her face flushing red. Red like Ivy's hair. Why are her eyes always drawn to Poison Ivy. Well, she's only human.

8 cuts.

The vines release her and she falls to her hands and knees. Her smooth perfect skin is marked now by cuts and bruises. She is beaten and battered. A harsh hand grabs a fistful of her hair and pulls her up. It is not the clown this time. Stephanie finds her eyes meeting Ivy's. "Poor little thing" she tuts. She has been smashed and pounded by these two so much she might be broken. And the night is just getting started.

9 cuts.

The hands are soft. Four of them. Two from each of her hands. And they are all over her. Steph can't breathe. She couldn't even if Harley wasn't choking her. Ivy's hands are worse. Because they're not choking her. They're stroking her. Stephanie tries to stop her hips from bucking and spasming without success. She tries to stop her panties from growing steadily wetter as Ivy's fingers search thoroughly beneath them. She tries not to enjoy it. She really does.

10 cuts.

Poison Ivy has found her rhythm now. Two fingers. Pumping in and out. The blonde vigilante is just too good. And now that Harley has abandoned her throat, both of the villains get great satisfaction from the noises Spoiler is making. Moans and groans and wails and best of all: the whimpering. The broken beautiful whimpering. Steph can't stop herself. Ivy is fingering her too hard and too rough and too well. She looks to the pale skinned Harley Quinn, grateful to be able to breathe but fearful of what she has planned. Harley has her phone out. She is filming it.

11 cuts.

It's for their personal collection. That's what she hears Harley say. Their very own video of Stephanie Brown being punished. Punished for trying to do good in a city like this. And with punishment comes pain. "I want you to beg" Ivy whispers. "I want you to beg to be mine." Steph is trembling as Ivy's fingers retract from the blonde's knickers. She watches helplessly as Ivy licks her fingers clean. Then her broken body aches as Ivy flips her onto her front and brings the palm of her hand down on Stephanie's petite bottom.

12 cuts.

Spanking. Truth be told, Steph loved it. When Tim pinned her down or even tied her up, then he slapped her butt over and over until it was as red as his costume. She asked him for it. She begged him for it. She knew he loved to give it to her. This wasn't a game though. This was Poison Ivy and Harley Quinn taking it in turns to thrash her ass with all of their strength while the other held the camera. She was in tears. Her ass was beyond stinging, it was screaming. Red bruises scorched her rear. They just laughed.

13 cuts.

They wanted her to beg. She begged. She begged them to stop. She broke down into tears. Suddenly she felt so small. And though she hated to admit it, so aroused. She hated to admit it but they made her. Then she begged again. She begged her new mistress to claim her. Ivy rolled her onto her back and straddled her waist. Harley stood back now, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed, uncharacteristically quiet. Steph's breathing fastened to near impossible speeds as the redhead let her hands rest on the blonde's small but firm breasts, squeezing tightly. Ivy leaned forwards and locked her lips with Stephanie's. 13 cuts. 52 slaps, 23 bruises, 17 tears and 13 cuts. And now it was finally over.

* * *

Dick Grayson stood motionless, staring at his hands. Those hands were alien to him. Unknown. The things they had done were unimaginable. Selina Kyle's bed. Her body. His hands. The way he'd left her that night. Slapped. Bruised. Crying. Cut. And all that time he'd seen Barbara. What if it had really been her. The gorgeous redheaded crimefighter with a burst of freckles across the ridge of her nose and eyes so intense they could melt mountains. If it had been her...

Naked. Tied to the bed. His hands crashing into every stretch of skin they could find. Sometimes, stroking, caressing, feeling, loving. Other times, they were harsher, hitting, slapping, pinching, scratching. Leaving his mark on her so she'd never forget. She screamed his name more times than he could count. Over and over. Whether it was lust or pain he couldn't tell. He didn't care. He fucked her. He screwed her. He nailed her. He drilled her. He pounded her. ... He loved her. But it wasn't her. It was Catwoman. And he wasn't a hero anymore.

Whatever he was before, the demon inside had taken over. There was no more Dick Grayson. Only Nightwing. And now Nightwing stood face to face with the devil herself.

Barbara Gordon. Batgirl. Lost. And now found. Eyes locked at last. But this was not his Batgirl. The cowl was the same but the costume was gone. Replaced by a scattering of leaves. Barely enough to cover her modesty. Nightwing fought to regain control. "You found me," she said. He didn't trust himself to reply so he waited. And so she continued.

"Selina Kyle sent you. The mistress said she would. The Catwoman owes her a favour. And now you will be ours. The first son. It will break his heart." Batgirl smiles, devoid of warmth. Nightwing is silent. Pause. "You do love me don't you?" Barbara's voice says. Finally Nightwing speaks: "yes."

Batgirl steps towards him. Nightwing hesitates. Then he lunges. His hand cups her cheek, his mouth presses onto hers. Her hands fly to his sides. Her legs tremble. He lowers her to the ground. She is his. The black and blue are stripped from Nightwing. The leaves fall from Batgirl. They are together. Forever. Until they are not.

The kiss does not break. The kiss cannot break. It is eternal. "love me harder," she breathes. And he does. She is not Batgirl anymore. He does not care. He thrusts into her with all his might, slamming her body against the floor as he rocks his hips. He is not Nightwing anymore. He does not care. He loves her. And there is so much left to do to her.

* * *

Harley Quinn is not laughing. It just sounds like it. Her friend is gone. Poison Ivy is no more. Replaced by a monster. She will do anything to win. And to win, she has sacrificed herself. Harley would cry if she wasn't so busy laughing. Pretending to be laughing. Never laughing. He is coming. The dark angel of Gotham. There will be blood. But not red. Black. Black and Green. She wants to laugh. She tries to laugh. But she knows her 13 cuts are coming.

* * *

To Be Concluded...


	4. Issue 4

It can only ever end one way. We die. Death is the last eternal darkness. Black. The symbol of the Bat. And when we die, our bodies twist and rot until there is no more. Returned to the Earth we came from. Green. The colour of death.

* * *

The first time was a mistake. A night of passion neither intended. Robin and Batgirl. An attraction too intense to resist. The second time was a choice. Dick and Barbara. You might even call it love. They did for a while. Until they broke. Until the night when she said no more. Wrapped up in sheets and covers and attraction. It was the first night Dick Grayson broke. It was not the last.

Tonight he was fury. Fire and ice. The most beautiful thing she'd ever seen and the most terrifying. She wanted to feel what he felt. She wanted him to break her. Nightwing and Batgirl. The one thing that could overpower Ivy's effect. Not love. Too brutal to be love. And that is how true lust is born. Absence of love.

His hips grind into hers, his cock pounding into the ginger vigilante's tight pussy. He slammed down into her again and again. No mercy. Vengeance.

She shook, helpless beneath him on the rooftop. Her arms scratched at his chest, her long nails raking into his skin. His hands clasped around her throat. The Night.

She was a weapon. Ivy's. Nothing more. Nothing less. He was a weapon. The Batman's. So much more. So much less. Barbara Gordon was a shaking wet sweaty mess as he fucked her harder than anyone had ever dared before. Her frail body shaking and giving in. He was unstoppable. The Bat.

* * *

Stephanie Brown screamed. It echoed throughout Gotham. A city of pain with so much more to come. Harley Quinn laughed. Perhaps the most painful laugh of all. It was torture - plain and simple. If Ivy got the redhead then Harley got the blonde. That was fair. Stephanie got the gag, the whip, the vibrator and the blade. That was not fair.

13 cuts became 30. Jolts of electricity ran through her. Tears welled in her eyes. Harley giggled, cradling her oversized mallet. Stephanie's bloodshot blurring eyes met Harley's. Unbroken. Maybe there was a light at the end of the tunnel. "Looks like there's a little fight left in you after all..." Harley twirled her blonde ponytails around her finger. Oh what to do with the little bitch. Slapping. That was the answer. Ass, face, boobs and pussy. Make the skin as red as the blood. Red as a Harley Quinn.

This was the best part. The cuts and bruises gave Stephanie a sick charge but the spanks and slaps - she didn't even try to resist the pleasure of that. She just wished it wasn't Harley. So she let her mind rewrite the story. Tim Drake. His hands on her body. Toying with her, using her, beating her. He spanked her ass so hard it trembled in fear. Her supple young breasts stung like they'd been lit on fire. Her face was covered in red handprints - marked. And her vagina had never felt so alive. Oh Tim. She moaned for him. Then she heard a clown shriek. Harley's hands ripped away from Spoiler's body. Tim Drake.

He was here. And he was angry. But not like a Bat. Cold. The look in his eyes were scarier than anything Steph had ever seen in a Wayne or a Grayson's eyes. Harley recognised it as he slammed the blonde's face into the wall. The calculated madness of the Joker. The scariest monster in Gotham had competition.

Tim said nothing. He tore the clown's clothes from her revealing an immaculate pale body. The back of his hand smacked across the side of her face and Harley fell to her knees. His knee shot up and caught her chin. It drew blood from her bottom lip. She grinned as she fell face first onto the floor.

Red Robin turned to his girlfriend. The love of his life. His Spoiler. She collapsed into his arms the second she was freed from her restraints. He helped her across the wall and sat her down leaning against it. She couldn't stop shaking. "It's alright," he whispered, "I'm here." She mustered up the strength to smile. The courage of heroes. "Took your time." Their embrace was long. He would never let her go. "I love you" she wasn't sure which of them said it first but it filled both of them. "They hurt me, real bad" Stephanie admitted. She wanted to look strong but she couldn't. Not foe him. The weakness of love. "Not as much as I'm going to hurt her..."

Stephanie's eyes widened. Harley screamed. Chained up like a slave, she was the prey now. Tim's face never changed expression. He didn't even blink. His hands had a strong grip. Harley would be lying if she said she hadn't enjoyed the way he handled her nude body. The smooth skin of her thighs tried to slide towards him but he caught them and threw them back into place. Everything the blonde jester had done to the blonde crimefighter was coming back to haunt her. The red devil's eyes never left her. The purple imp, bloodied with red gashes, grinned a toothy blood coated grin.

"How did she start?" Red Robin asked. Stephanie's voice refused to wobble: "the whip." Tim picked up the whip. Spoiler felt herself trembling again but not with fear. With love. With lust. Harley screamed. Her eyes met those of her torturer. "Puddin.." She whimpered. He didn't even blink.

* * *

The machine was ready. Ivy smiled and looked almost human. Then the dreams started. The gold statues of her in every forest. The green would fall and the red headed queen would rise. Everyone would be hers. Superman and Wonder Woman would be the first consorts of her new reign. She'd tie the Amazon up with her own lasso and pleasure with vines and leaves while the man of steel took Ivy's ass as his own. He'd fuck her with all her strength and she'd see if he really was a man of steel. Either way he'd melt for her.

"Enough!" It was a voice that could make mountains shake. He was here. The Batman was here. And for the first time since the game had started - Ivy was scared. In seconds his hand was on her throat. He only needed one to lift her off the ground and pin her to the wall. "Where's Batgirl?" He growled. Ivy choked, gagging for air until he dropped. She fell to her hands and knees, gasping desperately. Without hesitation his boot crashed into her stomach and sent her flying through the air. "Where is she?"

He doesn't even raise his voice. He advances on her. Their eyes are locked. "Gone." "Where?" "To face the first one you took in. To break your crusade." "Nightwing?" "Yes" "Then she's safe. He will never hurt her." "You don't really understand love do you..."

His hands goes for her throat again. She presses her hand to his chest and he stops. No man can resist her. "Where are the hostages?" She whispers. "Gone." His eyes never leave hers. "And my machine?" "I removed the spores before I confronted you. It's just a bomb now." "You expect me to disarm it?" "Yes." His eyes break away from hers and he steps away. Her eyes widen in surprise. Impossible. "Because otherwise you'll die Dr Isley. And we both know you're not really an eco-maniac. You're an ego-maniac."

Poison Ivy's heart races. Her skin flushes shades of red it never has before. All for nothing. Everything lost. And now: he knows her. "All you've ever known is lust," he continues although her eyes beg him to stop, "and all you've ever wanted is love." Ivy should kill him. Scratch his eyes out. Make him bleed. Never stop hurting him. But she doesn't. She sighs and her eyes are opened: "True."

He looks triumphant as he turns to leave. She's beaten. She'll disarm the bomb and turn herself in. There is no other choice. "It must be like looking in a mirror," she says suddenly and he stops. "Isn't that the story of Batman? In the end. The search for love?" He is frozen. Her hand places itself on his shoulder. He snarls, "you want to feel what I feel, know what's like to be claimed by the abyss..." He is ablaze with anger. "A love so deep that no matter how many times this city hurts you, you will always be there to save it. A love so deep you can never admit it, even to yourself. Even when it breaks your heart. You're right. That's all I've ever wanted." Poison Ivy tells the truth at last. And then she kisses the Batman. Green on Black.

His arms snake around her waist almost with out hesitation and he lowers her to the ground. The pain is over. He pulls away the leaves that cover her body revealing the most perfect pale thin body in humanity. So perfect it's inhuman. And he is something else entirely. His costume comes apart, discarded without a second thought. They are silent as their lips dance the dance of centuries. He lowers her to the floor on her back. Black on Green.

Ivy moans as he plants trails of kisses down her perfect neck and collarbone. Her body trembles. His erect penis presses against her entrance and with a gentle push he is inside her. He rocks forward then back until she is a sweating moaning mess, a goddess of attraction. The thing that surprises her most is how gentle he is. This moment in a word: acceptance.

It's the end. Ivy can feel it as his penis throbs inside her and wails echo around the room from her petite form. She trembles from the feeling. Waves of pleasure hit her and Pamela Isley erupts. Her whole body seems to spasm and squirm as she loses control. He is in complete control. And then he finishes inside her. The mask drops. He is human. And maybe she is too.

Explosions are red. And they are both inside this one. Consumed by the fires together. The warehouse burns down until there is nothing left but ashes and regrets. And one tiny shred of black, a cape drifting through the air into the grasp of a gloved broken hand. Dick Grayson looks at all that is left of his mentor. He does not cry. He is not Nightwing anymore. He is a Bat. And he is lost to the darkness.

* * *

Epilogue:

Alfred cries. His not a bat. He feels the loss of his son as any man would. He is alone. The bats screech in the caves beneath him. He is never alone.

Stephanie screams. The grin on her face grows wider. She struggles against the handcuffs and her body shakes in anticipation. Tim's hands are all over her. Her body is red. Her body is his. Tim Drake loves her. And now he fucks her. No mercy. He is not a bat. He is something far worse and so much better. He grins. None of the others can smile like he can. Stephanie Brown loves him. She wails out after he hits her with orgasm after orgasm. She screams.

Barbara Gordon and Dick Grayson. The couple that always should be but never seems to be. But finally they are together. But it is not love. They are not children. It is obsession. At night they are hunters, at day they are animals. While the sun shines, they are inside, in each others arms, Pounding each other's bodies with the ferocity of monsters. She is insatiable and will never recover from the one thing that still haunts her. Lust. He is lost. As he pulls the cowl over his eyes and descends into the abyss he is one thing and one thing only: Batman. But he is not alone. His hand grasps his partner's. Batman and Batgirl. Blue and Red.

And at the heart of the explosion: the colours of death. What happens after death? Is it an ending? Or is it a beginning? Perhaps they walk in paradise. Finally they have found the love they are looking for. No more games. No more control. She is loved. He is not alone. Their bodies connect and two souls become one. She wails out as he gives her everything and for the first time in forever: he smiles. What colour is love?

Black or Green?


End file.
